Have a Little Faith
by Warpath Grizzly
Summary: Kurt discovers that faith is what you make of it.


Kurt Wagner could remember a time when the haunting sound of singing monks filled the vast ceilings of St. Michael's Cathedral. It was a time when the glow of the votive candles could have illuminated the entire cathedral with their light, and the people came and went from the church freely. They did not need to wait for Sunday mass for their prayers. The church was open for anyone to claim sanctuary under the roof of the house of God. No graffiti was to be found on the outer walls, nothing had been carved into the stone of the pillars or the wood of the pews. The people of Munich, Catholic or not, had respected the church; as an architectural piece of art if not a holy place.

It was clear, however, that respect meant nothing to this place. He had come to this church in Boston after his attack on the president. It had been the first one he had come across that was devoid of human life. It was being renovated, and so closed off to the public for the time being. The gates had been covered in graffiti, and although it had the look of renovation, it had the air of abandonment. Kurt could tell that this place had been sorely neglected.

He stood outside, and peeked in through the stain glass window. Scaffolding surrounded the walls while everything else had been draped in white cloths to protect the things underneath from whatever the renovators could throw at it. It looked as though it was the elements that had done the most damage, however, as the white cloth was torn and shredded in a great many places. The holes made it easy for him to see the beautifully stained wood beneath and the marble floors that should have shone and gleamed but were covered by a thick layer of dust where the cloth didn't reach.

Ever so quietly, Kurt teleported himself into the building, and immediately removed the hat he had been wearing. He crossed himself, and bowed before the altar before taking in the layout of the building. Noticing that the pipes for the organ shot up from a balcony just above the grand wooden doors, he decided to take a look up there. He wouldn't be seen if anyone should decide to enter, and he didn't think God would be offended too much if he used the place where the choir would sing to sleep for the night. Even if he was offended, Kurt was sure that his Lord would forgive him if he asked. Kurt had always loved that aspect of Catholicism. He simply had to ask for God's forgiveness, and it was given. No questions asked. He didn't like the fact that it applied to murderers as well, but then again he wasn't going to be the one to judge. He was simply going to ask for his own forgiveness for breaking into a house of the Lord, and hope that God would accept that he had nowhere else to go.

He made his way up the carved spiral staircase to the second floor, following the open hallway until he came to the door that he hoped would lead to the balcony. Sure enough, there it was. It was a lovely balcony, one where the choir would have been bathed in the light coming in from the beautiful circular stained glass window positioned above the organ. The metal pipes encircled it, giving it the air of a great sun being embraced in a pair of metal wings. It had begun to rain since he had come in, and so the droplets seemed to splash not only on the window, but on the carpet as well. A quick look around revealed that Kurt was –as he had suspected- entirely alone. He settled down onto the softest bit of floor he could find and draped his jacket over himself like a blanket.

He took a few deep breaths, taking in the scent of the church around him, letting the abundance of oxygen drug his brain into sleep. He tucked his head closer to his chest and curled onto his side, ready to close his eyes when a small creak caught his attention.

He hadn't noticed anyone in the church other than himself, but this noise seemed to be coming from directly beneath him. His tail twitched an outward indication of his curiosity. The wooden doors beneath him creaked again, though this time for a much longer period than before. The door creaked shut again, and Kurt picked up on the sound of water droplets from inside the church rather than outside, along with tiny huffs as though the person now inside the church had ran to avoid the rain. Soft footsteps rang out in the absence of anything to muffle their sound, and as the person got further into the church Kurt's tail began to sway from side to side like that of a cat.

They had a hood on, but from the way they walked he could tell it was a woman. She was slight, and wore a sweater that probably belonged to a boyfriend or elder brother by the look of it; it was far too big for her. She took of her hood, and, like Kurt had done before her, she bowed before the altar. Unlike him, however, the black haired girl didn't wander up the staircase in search of a place to sleep. Instead, she collapsed to her knees, her shoulders heaving, and placed her head in her palms. The muffled words that she spoke were unintelligible to Kurt, and quite frankly, though the fact that he couldn't hear her very well didn't help, he didn't think she was speaking English, or German for that matter.

He teleported himself down silently behind her, though it didn't seem to do much good. She turned her body to see him, and let out a short, shocked scream, covering her mouth seconds later with her mouth. For a moment the pair remained perfectly still, staring at each other until Kurt made a tentative step towards her. When she didn't react he began moving slowly but steadily towards her, finally crossing himself, and bowing again before the altar as she had done moments before.

She looked up at him a little wearily, leaning back to fully take him in. She reached up to touch one of the symbols on his arm but quickly retracted her hand and looked away, attempting to hide the redness of her teary eyes.

"No need to be shy,"

He said, kneeling beside her. She was clearly in need of some positive comfort; whatever had made her cry must have been terrible. Her shoulders were still heaving, though she could no longer weep any tears. He reached over, and pulled her hair back behind her ear.

"You should never need to hide your face in the house of God,"

He said in an easy tone, happy that she hadn't flinched away from him. She looked him over once more, opening her mouth as if she wanted to say something, but closed it again after a moment. She looked as though she was formulating her thoughts, so he let her be. He watched her eyes dart between the statuettes of various angels and saints for a few seconds before she attempted to speak again.

"I'm sorry I intruded... I just have nowhere else to go,"

She said softly. Kurt nodded. He knew that feeling all too well, and no matter how many times he was asked about it, the story of why he had nowhere to go never got any easier to tell.

"I used to sing in this church, when I was small,"

She said quietly, taking a quick glance at the balcony where Kurt had made his temporary home.

"I guess in my haste I didn't remember that it wouldn't be here when I got here."

She took a corner of a white sheet laying beside her and brought it into her lap, watching the dust fly into the air and come down as though a golden glitter. The girl looked up through the dust, admiring the way it curtained the cloaked figure of Christ.

The girl's eyes narrowed. She stood swiftly, marched over to the cross and tore down the sheet that covered him, next the one that covered the altar.

"This is a sacred place, it shouldn't be left in abandon like this,"

She said almost angrily, and began collecting the sheets off the pews. She walked angrily past him, tearing off sheets, throwing open doors and soon was on her hands and knees, scrubbing the floor with an old brush, a bucket of water at her side.

"You aren't going to be able to restore this church by yourself,"

Kurt told her as he stood behind her, watching as she scrubbed. She stopped only long enough to smile and say

"Maybe not, Gabriel, but I have no doubt that you will send me help."

* * *

><p>A Note from Grizzly<p>

~It just occured to me that some people might not know this reference, so I'll put this little note in. In the Roman Catholic faith (and I say Roman Catholic because I don't know if all Christianity shares this detail), the Archangel Gabriel is said to be the right hand of God. He's sort of the next one down after God, Jesus and Mary. Point being, he's a powerful angel.


End file.
